


Scatter Back

by redscudery



Series: Scudery's Saturday Night Fic Fest [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Crack, Dialogue-Only, Hand Jobs, It's For a Case, John is a smartarse, Language Kink, Light Bondage, Locked In, M/M, Military Kink, Oral Sex, Poor Lestrade, Red Pants, Sherlock Speaks French, Sherlock is a Brat, Smut, Snark, Top John, Walking In On Someone, endless sexy snark, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscudery/pseuds/redscudery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A miscalculation, a goat skull, and a larcenous upholsterer mean that John and Sherlock are trapped in a workshop. They have just enough time to get in a whole lot of trouble, to the detriment of the various fabrics, trimmings, and tools that they encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scatter Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maxthebd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxthebd/gifts).



> ...who upholsters things and makes irresistable innuendoes about it.

 

 

 

**6:01 p.m., Thursday**

“Why are we hiding under half-built chesterfields, Sherlock?”

“Don’t you ever read my text messages?”

“My phone’s being repaired because someone smashed it with a goat skull.”

“That did reveal something rather interesting about the tensile strength of…”

“So, in other words, you great prat, no, not today. I was about to go and buy a couple of shirts and you just swooped up behind me.”

“You could have been kidnapped by anybody.”

“First, nobody wants me but you and your power-hungry brother—no, quit rolling your eyes—and second, has it ever occurred to you to ask me if I want to go haring off with you?”

“The outcome couldn’t be worse than it would be were you to go and buy your own clothes.”

“Oh, very funny.”

“Thank you. Do listen, now. This upholsterer is stealing people’s pets.”

“I’ve always wondered where flokati rugs come from. Now I know: illegal poodles.”

“Half a wit is better than none, I suppose. But there’s no issue- and what I mean by that is, there’s no outflow. He doesn’t keep the pets. He doesn’t seem to be killing them. So, where do they go?”

“This may be the weirdest crime you’ve ever investigated.”

“I hope so. Shh!”

“Is that a door closing?”

“It is. Being locked, too.”

“And of course there are no exits.”

“John, stay down!”

“The lights are being turned off.”

“They’re leaving, so we’ll be able to search the place in peace.”

“Were you planning on searching anything other than the workshop? Because that’s where we’re stuck.”

“Stuck? No. I can pick that lock.”

“I hope so.”

“Look on the shelves. I’ll look on the floor.”

“Ok. I’m looking for animal hair, collars, pictures, etc?”

“Among other things.”

“Hey, look at this!”

“That is velvet, John.”  
“I’m aware. I didn’t know they made it in this shade of green.”

“Chartreuse. Perfectly vile.”

“What is THIS? It looks like it belongs in a torture chamber.”

“It’s a webbing stretcher.”

“I’ll stretch your webbing.”

“You’re completely spare today. Have you been eating chocolate eclairs again? ”

“You tell me.”

“Hm.”

“You are awfully close to me. Can’t you tell from across the room, Mr. International Reputation?”

“Easier to tell by taste.”

“What do you mean by ‘tas….oh.”

“No eclairs.”

“You have been smoking.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Tit for tat.”

“No tits here…no, there are. Look at that brocade.”

“Sherlock, what’s happening?”

“I’m making futile bird jokes in an attempt to defuse the sexual tension in the room.”

“It’s not working.”

“No, I see that. Is that an upholsterer’s mallet in your pocket or are you glad to see me?”

“The mallet is across the room, John, do keep up.”

 

**6:22 p.m., Thursday**

“God, I’ve always wondered whether it would be hard to undo these buttons.”

“Just do it. Your hair smells like linden flowers.”

“How do you even know… never mind. Kiss me again.”

“If you back right up you’ll land on that mostly-upholstered couch just there.”

“So I’m going to sit and you’re going to stand?”

“No, you’re going to sit and I’m going to kneel.”

“Oh.”

 

**6:30 p.m., Thursday**

“Red pants? Really?”

“They were on sale.”

“No. You bought them on purpose.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Do you really want me to say? I had been planning to employ my mouth in quite a different way.”

“Um. Maybe later then?”

“I can barely hear you, John. Am I moving too fast?”

“No, of cours no…..aauummmm…”

“I presume that’s a good noise. No, don’t bother straining your vocal cords. The physiological signs are all… and, my goodness, John, I do mean all…there.”

“Is that a dick joke?”

“It’s a dick joke.”

 

**6:55 p.m., Thursday**

“Scatter back.”

“God! What?”

“That’s what it’s called, John. A scatter back is a couch back that is covered in cushions. A tight back needs no cushions.”

“I think you should put your mouth back where it was.”

“Just trying to educate you, John.”

“Sherlock?”

“Mmmmfp?”

“I appreciate it.”

“The education or the fellatio”

“The fellatio. Why did I say that? Put your mouth back!”

“Yes, Captain…but, John?”

“What?”

“I do have a tight back.”

“Not with those cushions you call an arse you don’t…no! Don’t laugh with your mouth full.”

“John, can I…”

“You choose now to be delicate, when you’ve got a finger a whisper away from my arsehole?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. This is culturally coded as a homosexual act, you know.”

“…”

“John, a sigh is not an answer.”

“First: and your very male mouth on my cock isn’t? Ok. Second: yes. Yes. Fuck the cultural coding.”

“Fuck me.”

“That’s next. Oh!”

“I like it when your eyelids flutter.”

“Mmmm.”

“And when you squeak.”

“I do not squeak.”

“It’s perfectly acceptable to squeak.”

“I do not squeak. Oooooohhhhh.”

“True, that wasn’t a squeak. It was a moan.”

“Can’t you put something in your mouth to stop the—oh!—leak of words?”

“I can, at that.”

“Mmmm.”

“John?”

“Oh God. What?”

“Why are your eyes open?”

“Because seeing you on your knees in front of me is a fucking dream come true.”

“Oh.”

“Sherlock?”

“Mmmfp?”

“Are you blushing? No, don’t shake your head. Tell me the truth.”

“I am flushed with desire.”

“You’re blushing.”

“And what if I am?”

“You like it when I tell you what to do.”

“It is entirely likely, I suppose, if we consider you the exception that proves the rule.”

“Hands behind your back.”

“I am obeying under protest.”

“I’m going to get that fringe over there and I’m going to tie your hands behind your back.”

“But I just got my finger…”

“Never mind that now. We have time.”

“John?”

“What?”

“That’s not fringe. It’s piping.”

“Piping, fringe, whatever. I’m still going to tie you up.”

“Please.”

“Is that too tight?”  
“No. And, upon reflection, it’s rather more appropriate.”  
“What?”

“Piping. Did you know that “une pipe” is slang for a blowjob? Which I assume I will be allowed to finish, by the way.”

“No, yes, and… you speak French?”

“Bien sur.”

“I see.”

“You have goosebumps. Oh, I see. Exchange student, was it?”

“Sixth form. Never looked at me of course, but I could dream.”

“You mean wank.”

“I do.”

“Was she beautiful?”

“He was.”

“Oh, really, John?”

“No need to look so surprised.”

“Mais je ne suis que content.”

“Fuck.”

“Now come here and let me continue la pipe.”

“Since you put it that way.”

“Mmmmpf.”

“Is that French for …oh God.”

“Your eyes are rolling back into your head. Is that bad?”

“Smartarse.”

“Sexy arse.”

“What is your obsession with your arse?”

“What is your obsession with my arse?”

“It’s because…oh, do that again…it’s so incongruous. There is no reason for it to be so … so… what was I saying?”

“That I have a large arse.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because you said I had a large arse.”

“It wasn’t an insult. Bend over that chair, I think.”

“Jhnmyfistuck.”

“Oh, is your face stuck? Pardon me.”

“Better. Thank you. Oh!”

“Well, you’re no slouch yourself, now, are you? And I can’t tell what colour your pants are, but they’re very soft.”

“Uuummm.”

“Oh, speechless, are we?”

“Silent.”

“If only. Hmm, that’s nice.”

“I know.”

“You really are obsessed with your own arse.”

“It’s worth i….oooohhhhh.”

“I didn’t ask about the finger. I figured it was okay.”

“Srseh m wrygbbg”

“Pardon me? I mean, did you just say what I thought you said?”

“ISs”

“I am clearly not doing a good enough job. Where’s the lemon oil?”

“Uufrr”

“Mmm, smells nice.”  
“John!”

“Stretch, you said. And so I will.”

“Ohhh…”

 

**7:09 p.m., Thursday**

“These springs are certainly bouncy. We should get a couch like this.”

“It looks like it belongs in a bordello.”

“You have just behaved as though you belong in a bordello.”

“Judging from your face, you enjoyed it.”  
“As if you didn’t shout my name at the top of your lungs when you came. I don’t think that leopard-print pouffe is ever going to be the same.”

“Oh que non.”

“Even I know what that means.”

“Tu ne parles pas français?”

“You bloody know I don’t. You’re just trying to get into my pants again.”

“C’est le rouge qui m’attire tant. Also, you are already out of your pants.”

“Dry up.”

“I should. Lestrade will probably be here shortly.”

“When the hell did you text him?”

“I believe it was while you were lying there with your eyes rolled back into your head.”

“Why have I just swapped bodily fluids with a madman? I ought to take that webbing stretcher to your balls.”

“You would never.”

“No. But I might nibble them a little.”

“Oh.”

“Like this?”

“YEsssss…”

“Oh, I like it when you get all soft-faced like that. Don’t move.”

“Hey, lads, how is it that you’re… OH MY GOD.”

“LESTRADE!”

“Your timing is appalling as usual, Lestrade.”  
“I can leave. Please tell me I can leave.”

“You can leave.”

“Come back in an hour.”

“I hate you both.”

“Unless you would rather join us.”

“Y…no…fuck you.”

“That was rather the point of the invitation.”

“SHERLOCK.”

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

 

 

**8:30 a.m., Friday**

“Beth, what is this on the leopard pouffe?”

“That’s an odd stain, isn’t it? And why is this piping here? I can’t imagine that even Busty Broncos lounge would want that colour.”

“I swear, first the cat hair, now this. One of these days I’m going to chuck this job.”

“Don’t blame you. Nothing exciting ever  happens here.”

 


End file.
